


Let Yourself Mean It

by antheia



Category: WP RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-29
Updated: 2006-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheia/pseuds/antheia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Much love to <a href="http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/"><b>packyrsuitcases</b></a>, who wanted this to be called 'arseless chaps appear nowhere in this work of fiction'; not only did she beta this, but she let me bitch at her endlessly about the whole writing process and she forced me to finish.  I also owe thanks to <a href="http://buhfly.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://buhfly.livejournal.com/"><b>buhfly</b></a>, for being massively supportive and to <a href="http://azewewish.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://azewewish.livejournal.com/"><b>azewewish</b></a> for her cheerleading.  ♥</p>
    </blockquote>





	Let Yourself Mean It

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to [](http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/profile)[**packyrsuitcases**](http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/), who wanted this to be called 'arseless chaps appear nowhere in this work of fiction'; not only did she beta this, but she let me bitch at her endlessly about the whole writing process and she forced me to finish. I also owe thanks to [](http://buhfly.livejournal.com/profile)[**buhfly**](http://buhfly.livejournal.com/), for being massively supportive and to [](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/profile)[**azewewish**](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/) for her cheerleading. ♥

"Get your ass out of bed, Padalecki!" Chad rips the drapes open, letting the sunlight invade the room. Jared tosses a pillow at him without opening his eyes.

"That key was for when you needed to get away from the ball & chain. Now that you're out of jail, I want my fucking key back."

Grabbing a corner of the comforter and yanking it off, Chad smirks "Baby, don't be like that. You know you love me."

"Oh, you _cocksucker_! It's on now!" with lightning speed, Jared is out of the bed and standing toe-to-toe with Murray. "Not even my Mama gets me out of bed like that anymore."

"I am not your Mama, son. You'd do well to remember that." Chad leans in, his lips brushing Jared's as he speaks, then turns and walks over to the chair in the corner, picking up a pair of jeans, which he tosses at Jared's head before rifling through a stack of shirts, trying to find one that doesn't smell like a West Texas locker room after the homecoming game. "Seriously, bro - do your laundry. If you're too lazy to do it yourself, you can send it out."

"Seriously, bro? Shut the fuck up." Grabbing a shirt, Jared walks over to his underwear drawer to grab a clean pair ("Yes, Mama, I promise I'll wear clean underwear.") and spots the clock. "Why are you here at ten fucking thirty on a Saturday?"

"Breakfast, dude. Now get dressed: I'm hungry." The last he says from the hallway, as he ambles out to the living room.

"Breakfast? You woke me up for fucking _breakfast_? I really want my keys back." But by then, Chad is out of ear-shot.

Twenty minutes later, Jared lopes into the living room, hoping his pumas are under the couch. Chad's in the middle of a phone call, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him. Which means there's probably more in the kitchen. Abandoning the search for his shoes, he heads in that direction; sure enough, there's a full pot sitting on the counter.

Chad's voice wafts in over the pass-through, "On what grounds? Fraud? What the fuck. You can't just get an annul... Fine. Whatever. I'll pick up the paperwork on Monday."

Ambling out of the kitchen, Jared holds the pot in one hand and his own cup in the other. Leaning over to top-up Chad's coffee, he glances back over his shoulder and asks if Chad's seen his shoes. He knows better than to ask about the call. The whole thing with Sophia had been bad news from the start: it didn't take a genius to figure out that marrying your co-star was a bad idea, or that it was worse when you were both so young. But it was done, and now his friend is fourteen kinds of fucked up. So he just smiles, and pours the coffee.

Chad just shakes his head and murmurs "nope" while reaching for the mug. Jared sets the pot on the coffee table before kneeling on the carpet to search for the missing sneakers.

"Dude," Chad laughs as Jared's shoulder hits his knee, "you wanna suck my dick while you're down there?"

"If I had any faith that I could find it without a magnifying glass and some tweezers? I would."

He stands triumphantly, a pair of red Pumas hanging from his right hand. Grinning, he falls like a bag of sand into the chair beside him, then folds himself in half to put the shoes on and tie them up.

"The bitch wants an annulment," Chad chokes out. "It's not enough that she's leaving me, and that she let the whole goddamned world know what a piece of shit I am. Now she wants to pretend like our marriage never even fucking happened. Fraud, the fuck."

"That's fucked up, dude." Jared finishes tying the laces and stands up. "What're you gonna do?"

"Whatever I have to. I gotta keep the peace in some way - we still have to work together." He sighs, and follows Jared to the door. "I just want this over with, yanno?"

"I get that."

\--

"Let's take your car, man. Mine's full of stuff right now."

Jared doesn't comment, he just turns right and heads up the street to where he parked last night. Heat ripples out at them when they open the doors, and not for the first time, Jared thinks about getting one of those reflective visors. "Hang on, I'll turn her over and open the windows before you get in."

Chad takes a deep, final drag on his cigarette, then flicks the butt away before climbing in, his knees crunching up against the dash. "Dude, what the fuck?"

"Sorry, man: dropped Sandy off at home last night. Totally forgot, or I'd have warned you." Chad sighs and slides the seat back.

"Let's just go."

"Where? You haven't told me yet."

"Oh. Pull up ahead and take a left."

Jared doesn't know what all the mystery is about, but Chad's grinning again, so he lets it go. They drive for a bit, bantering about the network, LA, Alexis, Jensen and the radio stations. Something's beginning to occur to him as Murray tells him to hang a left at the next light.

"No way, man. Tell me they opened an IHOP or a Denny's down here. Even another over-priced brunch spot. Just don't even tell me that we're going to -"

"-Crazy Girls," Chad cuts him off. Turning his head, he smirks at Jared, "I hear they have a killer buffet."

"You douchebag. I can't believe you got me up to go to a fucking _strip club_ at eleven o'clock in the morning."

"Yes, you can. Besides, nothing goes better with coffee and scrambled eggs than tits. It's a fact." Jared laughs and drops the subject. At least Chad isn't sitting at home alone, blowing rails, chain smoking, playing X-Box and prank-calling Sophia.

Walking into the bar is like stepping into another world. A world where it's permanently one a.m. What little light there is has been filtered through gels, casting a red glow over everything that reminds Jared of the descriptions of hell that he used to hear at Church on Sundays. He shifts uncomfortably, not sure how he feels about being here, now. It's one thing to come in with a group of guys on a Friday night. But in the broad light of day?

He feels a hand press against his chest, and realizes that Chad's got a handful of t-shirt and is tugging him forward.

"Let's get a table, dude." As they slide into a booth off in a corner of the bar, a waitress shows up. "Can I get you boys something to drink?"

"A corona and - " Chad looks at Jared, who nods," -a Bud Light. And what's the deal with the buffet?"

"It's $12.95, all you can eat. If you give me a credit card, I can start a tab for you and we'll just add it to that." Chad slouches back into the red velvet, digging his wallet out of his pocket. Calmly flipping through it, he finds the card he wants, handing it over to the waitress before putting the wallet back in his pants. As she walks away to get them set up, he leans back, arms slung over the back of booth. Jared's probably the only person who can tell that Chad's _acting_ relaxed.

"I'm gonna go grab some food," Jared says, heading off in search of pancakes.

\--

Jared's stacking his plate with a second helping when he glances up in time to see Chad wink at a dancer before she walks away from their table. He has a bad feeling about this: there wasn't anywhere near enough time for the girl to have given him a lapdance. Which means Chad's up to something. Shit.

He crosses the room and slides back into the booth. "What's goin' on, Murray?" he demands, punctuating the question by shovelling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Chad gives him a look that's all mock innocence, and he knows he isn't getting a straight answer. He's going to have to roll with whatever gets thrown at him. Which is par for the course when you're with Chad: life is utter mayhem all the time, and you either go with it and have fun, or fuck off. Jared generally enjoys the ride, so he just keeps eating his scrambled eggs.

He's reaching through the empty bottles in an attempt to grab the ketchup when a tall blonde in a red rhinestone get-up comes striding up. She glances at Chad, who nods at her and winks, before turning to Jared.

"You Jared?" she asks.

"Yes, ma'am," he answers. She leans forward and puts her hat on his head, and he's pretty sure the only thing that keeps her breasts from popping out of the rhinestone encrusted cups is hope. Jared throws his head back and laughs before turning to give her a better angle; like he said: may as well roll with it.

"Nice to meet ya, I'm Ruby," she drawls in the _worst_ Texas accent he's ever heard. He tosses Chad an amused look as she pushes him back in the booth, stepping between his legs. Ruby begins to dance, and he can't remember what was funny. Suddenly his world is swaying hips, hair grazing his lips, breasts pressing against his chest. More than once he has to remind himself to keep his hands on the bench.

He glances up to see what Chad's doing, and is maybe less surprised than he thinks he should be to find Chad watching him, and not Ruby's swaying body. He doesn't look away when Jared meets his gaze, only licks his lips almost imperceptibly and shifts in his seat before taking another pull of his (what is it now, fifth?) beer. Jared doesn't get a chance to register where Chad's hands are (or aren't) - Ruby grabs him by the jaw and is grazing his cheek with her lips, forcing him to focus on her.

She turns and begins grinding against his lap. He groans and Chad makes a noise in answer that Jared can barely hear from where he's sitting. His eyes snap up again, locking on Chad's across the table. They watch each other for another second, and then Chad suddenly slips out of the booth and heads to the back of the club without a word.

"Shit," Jared mutters, standing up abruptly, legs knocking into the table, and spilling a drink on the dancer in the process. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry..." he mutters another round of apologies as he hands her a stack of napkins. As soon as he's confident that he's not going to be thrown out, he follows Chad into the men's room.

\--

Chad is hunched over the sink, splashing water over his face, bathed in blue light. Making his way over, Jared leans against the neighboring sink and waits to be acknowledged. When Chad finally looks up, his face is contorted in an expression Jared can't read. They look at each other across a foot of tile floor that may as well be a mile. Chad's knuckles are going white where he's clutching the sink, and his jaw is clenched, as though he's biting something back. His cheeks are flushed with alcohol and something else... something simmering under the surface. He looks as though he's going to unravel at any moment. Jared shifts a little, making himself more comfortable against the sink - legs stretched in front of him, palms resting on the basin behind him.

"Any time you're ready, man," the Texan finally murmurs. The blonde blinks, and lets the alcohol make the decision for him. He closes the distance between them and dips his head, pressing his lips against Jared's.

Jared lets it happen. He let's Chad's tongue slip into his mouth, countering it with his own. Chad fingers the bottom of Jared's shirt then slides his hand under it, circling to the back, drawing them closer. Chad breaks away from Jared's lips, kissing and biting his way down his jaw and neck, his stubble scratching the soft flesh of Jared's neck. Jared cups Chad's face, drawing him back up into a kiss.

The door creaks open, and they break apart, pretending to wash their hands. The intruder, aware that he's walked in on something, rushes to take a piss, and flees without washing his hands. As the door closes, Jared grabs Chad by the wrist and drags him into a stall, locking the door behind them.

"What. The fuck. Is up. Dude?" Jared manages between kisses.

"Fraud." It takes a minute to connect the dots, and while Jared's thinking, Chad takes the upper hand and pushes him against the facing wall. He's got Jared's shirt pushed up and is kissing, licking and biting his way up his stomach when Jared finally figures it out, laughing so hard the doors shake.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Chad hisses, standing up and clapping a hand over Jared's mouth.

"Nothing, man. Nothing. It's just that now I owe Jensen fifty bucks." Chad stares at him, slack-jawed. Before he can regain the power of speech, Jared whispers, "Don't worry about it, dude," against Chad's ear before nipping his earlobe. Sliding his hands up under the shorter man's shirt, he pulls him tightly against his own body. Jared moans into Chad's mouth as their cocks brush together through layers of cotton and denim. Chad's hands return to Jared's stomach, slip-sliding over sweat-slicked muscles. Jared dips down, lapping at the salty heat of Chad's jugular as they find a rhythm. For a time all Jared can hear is Chad's ragged breath in his ear, and he answers it with sighs and sharp intakes of air.

"Oh god, yes," Chad stutters as he rides Jared's leg. "Fuck, yes. Gonna come." And, Jesus, it's too hot for Jared to take anymore; his senses are overwhelmed: the taste of Chad lingering in his mouth (beer and cigarettes and coffee and eggs), hot breath in his ear, and - oh god - the friction; he's lost - he shudders and thrusts once, twice and again, coming against Chad's thigh. A moment later Chad groans as the orgasm washes over him. Jared watches, rapt by the abandon on Chad's face. Slumping forward, their lips meet in a messy, exhausted kiss.

Breaking away, Jared leans back, his head against the wall of the stall. He doesn't know what to say, where to begin. Instead, he waits for Chad to say something.

"Shit, I wanted to wear these jeans tomorrow, man."

Jared laughs from his belly, glad that Chad's still, yanno, Chad.

"Your jeans are the least of your problems, man - the waitress still has your credit card, you have to close out the tab, dude."

Chad blinks, then pinches the bridge of his nose. "Oh, fuck me, man."

"Alright, I wanted to get out of these pants, anyway. You settle the tab; I'll meet you by the car,"

Jared smirks, and opens the stall door.

Hell, it's not like they're the first guys to leave a strip club with come-stained pants and flushed cheeks.


End file.
